


oh, i need you by my side

by donniedont



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme, Recovery, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donniedont/pseuds/donniedont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Fili realizes that he does not have to confront his issues alone.  A fill for the Hobbit Kink Meme.  Warning:  Deals with the topic of self-harm/injury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, i need you by my side

**Author's Note:**

> While the issue of self-harm is something deeply personal to me, I never felt comfortable handling the topic. However, I saw this prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme and knew that I had to fill it: "Fili or Kili self-harms (I'm not fussed which), but when he's found out (by a family member, or Dwalin or Balin, or maybe Bofur?), I want to see how the others are just awesome and support their friend/brother/nephew and help him learn how to deal with this problem. I figure, after Smaug/wandering about so much, there have to have been other dwarves who self-harmed, so Thorin and some of the older dwarves, especially being in positions of leadership, would have maybe some experience with the situation.
> 
> So - do they try to keep it quiet from the other dwarves? How do they keep an eye on Fili/Kili during the quest - a buddy system? Are there routines they go through to help him destress when he feels the urge to injure? Do they tell him success stories of dwarves with PTSD/other issues after Erebor, who cut but quit?
> 
> Just, basically, something focusing on how - what routines and such - Thorin and Co. help Fili/Kili, and just basically older dwarves being awesome and empathetic and understanding and supporting their young friend/family member through a tough time."
> 
> I opted to go with Fili in this prompt. The title is a lyric from a song called "Everything We Need" by the Wild. I hope you enjoy.

It starts to unravel like this:  Fíli’s running and he opens up a wound on his leg.  It bleeds through his pants and before he knows it, Kíli is bending down and poking at him, announcing that he should see Óin about getting it looked at.

 

            Fíli protests, because he knows too well that it’s nothing that he can’t take care of himself.  The cut is done by his hand.  He knows its exact dimensions.  He’s by no means as skilled as Óin when it comes to healing, but he knows how to put ointment on and cover it with bandages until it has scabbed, healed, and joined the many other scars. 

 

            In hindsight, it’s astounding that he has gone as far as he has without anyone knowing about his more self abusive habits.  It’s always felt like a part of him that was always just about to spill between himself and anyone who came close to him.  He  is usually able to talk himself out of every cut as nothing more than unfortunate tumbles, confrontations with thorny bushes, and poor blocking during combat training.

 

            And yet, he finds himself sitting on a rock with Óin’s expert hands on his pants and Kíli grumbling that there’s no reason to be so modest.  Because Kíli doesn’t realize that of all the times he’s seen Fíli’s thighs is when he’s in the off season of hurting himself.  Even then, he’s made sure it was never long enough to see the rows of nearly parallel lines that he has been able to mark himself collectively for years at this point, occasionally with many months in-between the episodes.  Something in Fíli tells him that trying to make any argument along the lines of “I was cut-free for a year and a half before the journey!” is going to have much traction.

 

            Kíli is nearly kicking dirt in his direction, demanding that he just take off his pants.  “Do you need me to leave?” he asks, his eyes focused on the blood that is seeping farther into the fibers of Fíli’s pants.

 

            Fíli finds himself unable to respond, even though he already has an answer. If he could, he’d place Kíli as far away from him as possible.  There is no reason that Kíli ever has to know his older brother was so weak, so incapable of handling situations, that he has to channel the feelings onto his body. 

 

            For some reason, Óin lets go of Fíli’s pant leg and says, “Kíli, if you want to help your brother, how about you try and clean the blood out of his clothes when I look at him?”

 

            Kíli pouts and twists himself around.  “I’ll even give you privacy,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

 

            “Is that better?” Óin asks, his tone nearing exasperated. 

           

            Fíli realizes that this is the big reveal. It’s not nearly as dramatic as he imagined being found out would be.  He assumed that he was going to be found out, because he stupidly cut himself too deep and needed a healer to tend to it (to which he would argue that _no_.  He did not want to kill himself.  He couldn’t deal with his life sometimes, but he by no means wanted to end it).  Instead, he has someone trying to tend to a reopened cut that he could have taken care of himself if he took the time to pay attention to his body.

 

            “Can I _please_ see your leg?” Óin begs.

 

            Kíli rubs his face and stops when he hears Fíli tossing his boots to the ground and pulling his pants down.  The blood is smeared all over his thigh in a way that it’s obscuring old scars and new cuts alike.  He passes the pants over to his brother and he disappears to the main part of camp, where various members of the company look up periodically to see what is going on.

 

            Óin clicks his tongue as Fíli tries to cross his legs and keep his other thigh out of sight.  Óin’s hands calmly brush up against various scars as he wipes away the blood and covers the wound with ointment.  “How did you get this?” he asks.

 

            Fíli shrugs.  “I think I got caught on a rock or something,” he lies, “I thought it was scabbed over, so I didn’t come to you about it… sorry.”

 

            Óin sighs, shaking his head.  “I know I’m going deaf, but I can still tell when someone’s not telling the truth.  Now tell me what really happened?”  He even pulls out his little horn and sticks it in his ear, that bastard.

 

            Fíli presses his lips together and tries his best to kick Óin’s hand off of him without hurting him.  Instead, Óin grips even tighter.  “So you did it to yourself?” he asks.  He pushes Fíli’s leg aside to expose his other thigh.  “You’ve done all of these to yourself.”  He’s clicking his tongue again as he sits back, taking a deep breath.  “Well, then.  It’s been awhile since I’ve seen this… not since…”  He waved his hand as he tucked his ear horn away.  “Well, I’ll clean this up right away.”  He began to soundlessly wrap Fíli’s leg with a bandage. Fíli trying to swallow any chance of tears down as his throat burned in response. 

 

            Óin finishes and sighs.  “I need to tell Thorin about this.  All right, lad?”

 

            “No you don’t,” Fíli mumbles, finally feeling tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes.  He rubs them away, only allowing more to stream down his cheeks.

 

            “But I do.  He needs to know that you are hurting.”

 

            Fíli doesn’t respond and allows worse case scenarios to spiral through his head.  All he can see are situations in which his uncle is sending him back home, or taking away his appointment as heir, or just being incapable of treating him with the same regard that he gave him the moments before he found out about his habit.

 

            “There is no shame in it…”

 

            “Yes, there is,” Fíli snaps, “Why do you think I was hiding it for years?”

 

            Óin smiles weakly.  “Oh, I forget how young you really are.  Just… please believe an old Dwarf when it comes to these types of things.”

 

            Fíli doesn’t and finds himself wanting to scream as Óin whispers things in Thorin’s ear that he can only assume are about him.

 

            “You’re shaking,” Kíli notes, trying to lift the jacket Fíli is covering his legs with until his pants dried.  This time, Fíli is not afraid to kick him as hard as he can.  Kíli raises his hands and yells, “What is wrong with you?!” as he scrunches up, still refusing to leave his side. 

 

            Fíli focuses on Bombur fiddling with the fire and realizes that sometime between Kíli realizing he was bleeding and Óin deciding that he is fit to wallow in self pity as he reveals his darkest secrets to Thorin, it is time to set up camp for the night.

 

            There is a part of him that wants to resort to hurting himself, even though it is obvious that he is found out.  He is watching himself lose what little power he had over himself as Óin speaks and Thorin nods, his face undeterminable.  The conversation ends and Óin is off to the opposite end of the campsite as Thorin walks toward Fíli.

 

            Fíli grips his jacket tightly and tries to focus on the fire as Thorin says, “Fíli.  Come with me.” 

 

            Kíli opens his mouth and Thorin curtly adds, “This is a private matter between your brother and me.”

 

            Fíli gets up, carefully wrapping his jacket over his legs.  Maybe he will be able to at least keep this secret from his brother.  Óin and Thorin can be disappointed in him, but Kíli can still see him as his perfect, put together older brother.

 

            Thorin leads him away from camp, his face still as unreadable as it was when he came toward him initially.  He doesn’t stop walking until the flames can barely light their way.  He faces Fíli and removes his jacket, laying it on the ground.  He flicks his wrist in a way that Fíli understands means to sit down.  He does so, bunching his own jacket around him.  He has been so caught up by what has been going on that he has nearly forgotten that he has spent a large portion of the afternoon into evening without pants on.  It doesn’t seem to matter as long as he keeps his thighs covered and away from anyone else’s eyes.

 

            “Óin said that your wound was minor and that you will be fit to travel tomorrow,” Thorin announces, his voice rumbling over the typical chatter that is emitting from the camp.

 

            Fíli nods, slipping his hand in and out of one of the sleeves of his jacket.

 

            “He also suggested that the wound was self-inflicted.”

 

            Fíli catches tuffs of fur between his fingers before he nods again.

 

            “Is this true?” he asks, “I don’t doubt Óin’s expertise, but he clearly can’t live your life and know the source of each of your injuries.”

 

            Fíli wants to lie.  He’s been able to do it so easily for so much of his life.  Being on a journey in which he has had to fight many different foes with sharp objects only expands upon the types of lies he can create.  But it doesn’t feel right.  “No, he’s right,” he confesses, trying his best to look at anything other than his uncle.  The dark outlines of tree branches seems fascinating enough.  “I did it to myself.”

 

            Thorin frowns and leans in toward him.  “I’m assuming that this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, either.”

 

            Fíli shakes his head.  “No.  Certainly not.”

 

            “How long, if you can recall?”

 

            Fíli brings his fingers to his lap and tries to count them.  It’s difficult to pick a start time when it seems that each instance is its own separate entity.  There’s been times that he’s cut himself every day for nearly half a year and three years of being clean.  There’s scattered days that he had nowhere else to go with his emotions and he violently scratched himself until he bled and found himself satisfied.  It suddenly feels larger than himself, much larger than the patches of skin that are nothing but scars varying in age and color.  It becomes a beast that waits and pins him down when he can’t find any other solutions.

 

            “Difficult to say… at least a decade or two,” he mumbles, still trying to see if he can count it out on his fingers, “It comes and goes.”

 

            Thorin nods.  “Are you aware of what sets you off?”

 

            Fíli laughs, even though it sounds more like a broken up yelp than anything else.  “Losing control,” is all he can say before he’s awash with memories of many of his sloppy errors during combat on the journey thus far.  At least he isn’t crying.

 

            Thorin is silent for a long while. 

 

            “…Sometimes I get… scared?” Fíli adds, not even sure if he can properly articulate it, “I feel as though there are too many things put on me and I just… don’t know what to do with it.  But I want to be strong enough for you… for Erebor, when we reclaim it… for Kíli…”  He slips his hand under his jacket and begins to pick at one of the older scabs on his thigh.  He keeps his motions small enough that Thorin can’t notice.

 

            “Let me see your hands at all times, Fíli,” Thorin demands.

 

            Fíli is able to rip off the corner of his scab and savor the sting before he brings his hand out.  “Please don’t… don’t think that this means I can’t see through this quest with you,” he begs, his voice nearing a pathetic whine, “I have been dealing with this for years and I haven’t been a burden, yet.  Just, please…”

 

            “Would you be willing to quit?” Thorin asks, “Because right now, yes.  You are not being a burden.  But what if you continue being reckless with your injuries?  I cannot allow our precious healing supplies be used on a member of the company that is hurting himself.”

 

            Fíli chews on his lower lip as he thinks about this.  How can he quit something that comes and goes so quickly, he can barely chart what he is doing and not doing to his body?  At the same time, he wonders how he can possibly hurt himself with his hand steady enough to ensure that each cut was shallow enough.  He nearly shudders at the thought of accidentally hitting an artery. 

 

            “If you say that you want to quit, I will see to it that you are provided whatever necessary to ensure that you will never have to resort this for the rest of the journey.”  Fíli finally wills himself to look into his eyes and he swears he sees the same intensity his uncle has aimed at more fearsome, tangible enemies.

 

            Fíli tries to imagine what a life would be like without this hanging over him.  “You’re saying… I’ll never hurt myself again?” he asks.

 

            “I cannot guarantee that,” Thorin says, “From my understanding, you have opened something inside you that will never quite close.  But I can promise that I will help you quit long enough to see the end of this journey without another wound on your body made by your own hand.”

 

            _You have opened something inside you that will never quite close._ Fíli mouths the phrase several times before he says, “…I’m not the only Dwarf that’s ever done this, am I?”

 

            Thorin shakes his head.  “It’s an older… condition.  To be honest with you, I haven’t seen it as much as I used to.  After Smaug… many of our people resorted to various forms of injury to self in order to deal with the loss.”  He stares off into the distances, toward what Fíli can only assume are his memories cycling through his mind.  “I watched someone punch walls until every bone in their hand broke, because they were so overcome with sorrow.” 

 

            Fíli winces, feeling pain shoot through his hand in response.  He’s never been that low.  He’s always had something be able to guide him away from major veins or letting his wounds be consumed by infection.  He knows loss, but is simply too young to truly know what it was like to lose at the capacity his mother, uncle, and the older population did.

 

            “There’s also many Dwarves that have thrown themselves to their position as warriors and did not care if they lived or died by their injuries.”

 

            “I don’t want to die,” Fíli whispers, “I’ve never wanted to.  I just wanted to manage.”

 

            “I believe that is something we can work with,” Thorin replies, the vaguest semblance of a smile forming on his lips.

 

            “How?” Fíli asks.

 

            Thorin closes in on the space between them and slings his arm across his shoulder, embracing him for a moment before he continues.  “The first thing we must do is ensure that you are never alone.”

 

            “So you don’t trust me?” Fíli asks, nearly lifting Thorin’s arm off of him.

 

            “It’s not that, Fíli.  I promise you.  It’s that if something happens to you… something that may overwhelm you… I want to make sure that you have someone to talk to, as opposed to running off and hurting yourself.  I do want you to make sure that your hands are visible as much as possible, as well.  Especially in situations like this in which you could be scratching yourself.  I also think it might be best to consult Ori about finding something for you to do to keep your fingers distracted.”

 

            “But that means we’ll have to tell the others.”

 

            “Not necessarily,” Thorin explains, “Although, I want you to know that many members of this company are familiar with this condition and will want to help you quit.”

 

            “But you said it yourself you can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to quit for good.”

 

            “No.  I cannot.  Perhaps we can refer to it as managing your condition?  Would that make you more comfortable?”

 

            Fíli nods, realizing that he didn’t even have to ponder it.  “Yes.  I think I can certainly agree to managing it.”  He closes his eyes and snaps them back open.  “But what do I tell Kíli?”

 

            Thorin’s jaw tightens.  “You tell him the truth when you feel you are able to.  I am certain that as soon as he knows, he will gladly stay at your side even more than he does now.”

 

            “You don’t think he’d be disappointed in me?”

 

            Thorin holds him tighter.  “I don’t think he could ever be disappointed in you.”

 

            Fíli feels much younger than he actually is.  He might as well be in his teens, pressing bruises too hard with his fingers when he got frustrated, slowly replacing Thorin with the father he lost too young.

 

            Thorin pats Fíli’s shoulder.  “Your pants should be dry by now.  We’ll return to camp.  Stay by my side until others are aware of the situation.”

 

*

 

            The evening goes by smoother than Fíli anticipates.  His pants dry off and he realizes that his brother has a knack for getting blood stains out of fabric.  Thorin allows him to sit in on his meetings with Balin, Dwalin, and Gandalf concerning where they were going the next morning.

 

            He barely listens to the deliberations as he watches various members of the company jump in and out of the circle to piece together details.  Bilbo seems constantly on the edge, watching cautiously before he flits to another part of camp.

 

            Part of Fíli wants to confess in this instant.  While he’s thankful that Thorin has reacted far better than he could anticipate, he wishes he has the same freedom he had only hours ago.

 

            “How’s the leg, laddie?” Balin asks, their meeting seeming to be at a conclusion.

 

            Fíli instinctually cups his thigh with his hand, feeling the outline of the bandages under the fabric.  “It’s going to be fine,” he tells him, “I’ll be able to head out tomorrow.”

 

            Balin nods his head and turns to Thorin, who appears to have the slightest bit of a pained expression on his face.  Somehow, the wizard catches on and gets up, grumbling about having to have a talk with Dori.

 

            Fíli kicks half-moon marks in the dirt with the front of his boots before he adds, “I’m sorry about this.  It was entirely my fault.”

 

            “Well, it sounds like it was a minor injury.  Happens on the road,” Balin reasons.

 

            Fíli laughs weakly before he says, “That’s true.  But I did it to myself.”  He scans the area and finds himself thankful that no one else is close enough to hear.

 

            Balin’s mouth opens the slightest bit and Dwalin nods his head solemnly.  Thorin appears the slightest bit proud as he adjusts the way that he’s sitting to face Fíli better.

 

            “How long have you been doing this to yourself?” Bailn asks, his voice soft and steady.

 

            “Around a decade or so,” Thorin answers for him.

 

            Fíli nods his head, watching Dwalin to see if had anything to say.

 

            Finally, Dwalin says, “I had a feeling.  You always seemed to have more injuries than you should have whenever I oversaw your training.”  He knots his fingers together before he asks, “Do you intend on continuing to hurt yourself, or do you wish to quit?”

 

            “He intends on…” Thorin starts, and Fíli lifts his hand.  Thorin nods his head and allows Fíli to continue.

 

            “I think it would be best if I try to quit,” Fíli says.

 

            Dwalin and Balin turn to each other and back to him.  “Probably the best idea, laddie,” Balin tells him.

 

            “You have our support,” Dwalin adds.

 

            Fíli can feel he prickling in the corner of his eyes and he’s not ashamed when several tears fall out of relief.  “I just don’t really know how to go about getting clean,” he confesses, “Uncle made some suggestions, but I just don’t know what to do.”

 

            “The methods are fairly simple,” Balin tells him.  “I’m quite familiar with them.  A cousin very close to us struggled with it for many years after Smaug.  She’s been clean for at least three decades at this point.”

 

            “You need to be committed to it,” Dwalin adds, “It took her several times before she was able to stay clean for even a month at a time.”

 

            “We don’t really have the ability to give you the amount of attention necessary,” Balin concludes.

 

            “I want to do what I need to in order to ensure that I am not a burden.”  He doesn’t realize he’s still pressing against his thigh until he feels his hand shake.  He pulls away and places his hands under his chin.  “I just don’t really know how to go about this.”

 

            “We do,” Balin replies, “It’ll be simple enough.  When you feel that you want to injure yourself, you notify us.  Simple as that.  It’s probably best that you take up some sort of activity to replace hurting yourself.  Keep your fingers active and not on your own skin.”

 

            “Perhaps you can fletch arrows?” Dwalin suggests.

 

            “I’m sure your brother would be appreciative of that,” Balin adds.

 

            “Thorin considered talking with Ori,” Fíli murmurs.

 

            “I feel that it’d be best that you take up an activity that does not include sharp objects,” Thorin says, “For a little while, at least.”

 

            “I’m not sure how the others will respond to seeing the heir to the Line of Durin taking up knitting,” Balin notes.

 

            “I will ensure that they say nothing on the topic,” Dwalin responds darkly.

 

            “Then it’s settled,” Thorin says, “Fíli, you will speak with Ori as soon as possible.  We will keep this between us, unless you say otherwise.”

 

            Fíli nods, feeling himself smile for the first time all day.  “Yes,” he replies, “Thank you so much.”  He yawns and quickly tries to cover his mouth.  “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

 

            “I can imagine,” Thorin replies, “You are free to go to sleep.  You’re off watch duties for tonight.  But don’t get used to it.”  He looks the slightest bit playful as he gently shoves Fíli.  “Tell your brother he’s off to, only to keep you company.”

 

            “Don’t forget to talk to Ori,” Balin adds.

 

            Fíli gets up and he swears that he has just had a conversation about something innocuous like being reminded to keep up with his studies or to stop dropping his arm when he’s blocking. 

 

            He returns to the main part of camp, feeling several pairs of eyes lingering on him for longer than they usually do.  There’s a darkness inside of him, but it’s one that is very familiar to the people he’s talked to.  He won’t be cured.  But he’ll certainly manage.  Especially when he has support from so many sides.

 

            He’s fought enemies larger than himself many times before, with swords.  He can certainly find a way to fight this without them.

 

*

 

            He asks Ori about knitting the next day, words tumbling out of his mouth in a way that doesn’t quite make sense.  He isn’t ready to tell him about his reasons for asking and he isn’t entirely sure if he’ll ever tell anyone outside of the members of the company that already knows.  He tries anyway.

 

            “I just… can you teach me… you know… knitting?” he asks, facing forward as they walk through the woods.

 

            “I beg your pardon?” Ori asks, “I’m sorry, you were mumbling a little…”

 

            Fíli notices that Kíli has trailed behind to walk with Bilbo and he repeats, his voice a little clearer.  “I need to learn how to knit.”

 

            Ori’s eyes widened.  “Oh!  Do you need me to make you something? I brought enough yarn to make a scarf, I’m sure!”

 

            “I want to make it,” Fíli says curtly.

 

            “I’d be happy to teach you!  We can start as soon as we get a chance to.”

           

            Fíli’s fingers twitch, trying to see if he can find a way to scratch himself without anyone noticing.  He forces himself to say, “I need to as soon as possible,” before he makes his way toward Balin. 

 

            “Feeling it,” is all Fíli can say.

 

            Balin nods solemnly.  “We can’t quite talk in detail right now. Just focus on the road ahead and try to speak with me about anything that comes to mind.”

 

            So he rambles.  He mentions that he spoke with Ori and he slept strangely well the night before.  Things get disjointed after that.  He wonders if he should tell Kíli.  How would he be able to get his words right?  He should probably sharpen his blades.  But was he even allowed to do that at that point?  Before he knows it, he’s no longer thinking about hurting himself, but he’s focusing on anything but that.  He doesn’t wait for Balin’s response when he bows and says, “I think I’m good now.”

 

            “Excellent.  Do you still want me to provide you with answers to your questions?”

 

            Fíli shrugs.  “I suppose.”

 

            “You should tell your brother.  Be clear.  He won’t understand as well as us elders.  You can certainly sharpen your blades and maintain your weapons, but please make sure you do it in front of people.  Other than that, just do what you feel comfortable with.  I know you feel weak right now.  But you’re quite the opposite.  Thorin, Dwalin, and I am proud of you.  And I’m certainly not going to forget that you decided just now to speak with me as opposed to hurting yourself.”  He turns over his shoulder and smirks.  “Your brother is searching for you.  Best return to his side.  Congratulations, Fíli, on your first day of recovery.”

 

            Fíli feels himself grinning as he returns to his brother’s side.  Kíli squints before he says, “What were you and Balin talking about?”

 

            “I’ll tell you later,” he whispers, because it’s true.  Even if he’s not entirely sure when later is.

 

*

 

            Ori appears at his side when he’s setting up his bedroll with knitting needles and several skeins of yarn.  “You were serious about learning how to knit, yes?” he asks, almost hiding into his handmade cardigan.

 

            Fíli finds himself able to smile easily as he takes a pair of needles from him.  “Yes, Ori!  I was absolutely serious!  It’s about time I learned more than knife work.”

 

            Ori covers his mouth with his own scarf as he helps set Fíli up.  “It’s not going to look pretty at first,” he explains, “It took me a lot of practice before I figured out how to do it well, myself.  But if you’re willing to work on it, I’m willing to help you!”

 

            Fíli is nearly giggling as Ori begins to explain the importance of casting on.  He feels a warmth in his chest that hasn’t been there for awhile.

 

            Eventually, Kíli scampers over, his mouth agape.  “You’re _knitting_?” he asks, plopping down next to his brother.  “Are you holding lessons or something, Ori?”

 

            Ori shrugs.  “I suppose I am…” he starts.

 

            “I wanna learn, too!” Kíli exclaims, “Do you have another pair of needles for me?”

 

            Ori jumps up.  “I’ll go see if I have anymore in my bag!” he says, disappearing toward his side of the camp.

 

            Fíli watches his brother for a long while before he says, “I’ve been hiding something from you.”

 

            Kíli nods.  “I figured.”

 

            “It’s not… something to be proud of.”

 

            “If it’s knitting, I don’t care.  It’s not that embarrassing.”

 

            Fíli smiles weakly.  “It’s… not that, Kíli.”

 

            “So what is it?”  Kíli finally turns to him and presses his forehead against his.  “You can tell me anything.  You know that you will always have my support.”

 

            He takes a deep breath before he whispers, “I have been hurting myself for many years now.”

 

            Kíli doesn’t pull away.  “I assumed you have been for awhile.”

 

            Fíli gasps, about to speak, but Kíli places his hand gently on his mouth.  “I’ve seen your legs cut up before.  It didn’t quite make sense when I was watching you fight how you’d end up with them.  But I didn’t want to make that kind of accusation, you know?  I just figured that you would tell me when you were ready.”

 

            Fíli instinctually wraps his arms around his brother, holding him tightly.  “I’m trying to quit.  Do I have your support?”

 

            “You didn’t have to ask!” Kíli exclaims, holding him back.

 

            They stay there for awhile, Ori walking on them still intertwined.  He shyly clears his throat and says, “Ah, so I found another set of needles.  It’s not the best for the yarn type, but I’m sure we can make it work.”

 

            “Sounds good,” Kíli replies.

 

            “I think we’re ready to move forward,” Fíli adds.

 

            They still stay close together for several moments more before they dive into Ori’s lesson.


End file.
